Sugarfree gum just makes your breath smell sweet
by Siren Duveil
Summary: Hermione's feelings have been hurt and she is going on a rampage. Or rather,she wants to go on a rampage because it might make life interesting. And what's this? Is she hearing voices?
1. Sugarfree isn't the way to be

'…' – thoughts "…."-talking

* * *

Sometimes you just don't know what you're doing. The world is spinning and you're stuck, trying to decipher the directions fate has given you lately to begin on. Life is slipping past, and what are you doing? You're SLEEPING. How disappointing…

Hermione sat up in bed, wriggling under her covers. She felt so…uncomfortable. She looked around her room, taking in the nice, muggle qualities of her parent's house and the many school books she had on the ground. No school yet. Nothing to do. She'd already read through the books she'd be using at school in a week or so. She shook her head. She could always go through them again; one could never be too prepared.

It was uncomfortably hot in her room, so she got out of bed, glaring at the window that was letting in sunlight. She went to her dresser and found the letter she'd gotten from Harry yesterday evening. It'd come at a bad time though; for it was that day that Hermione found she's not good for flings.

Well, she wasn't sure she'd call it a fling; there was a hug or two, and some affectionate nudging of knees as they sat on a park bench. The boy was from somewhere close to her parents' house, and quite cute. She'd met him at the park one day, and probably wouldn't have talked to him at all if he hadn't started the conversation. They spent hours sitting, talking about everything- or at least, Hermione made up a load of crap to exchange for her life, including a distant European school where she spent the year save Christmas holidays.

They talked of Crookshanks, and how he had a snake and cat himself. "It's great," he said, "Feeding Laser (his snake) live mice everyday and watching the furry things run for life before being swallowed." He'd laughed. Hermione was slightly appalled, but she believed that was how she fell for him.

They met at the park a few more times, and Hermione decided to be daring and have a fling with this boy. She already had it all planned out: They'd go for spontaneous walks until late at night, after he came to tap on her window. She wouldn't tell her mother or father about it. It's not that they would have disapproved of her having a 'cute boy around'. She just…wanted to make things interesting.

The week or so was great. She slowly grew more comfortable with him, and never again thought of their relationship as a fling. That is, she never thought of it as a fling until she found that he'd thought of it as just that. One day, he just smiled, kissed her, waved, and said he was going off on some stupid camping trip in the middle of some stupid place where she wasn't going to be, but another girl was.

Damn him. She'd stormed home, and didn't feel like reading the letter Hedwig left from Harry. She'd had enough with boys, whether they were friends or STUPID, STUPID boyfriends.

The next morning, though, where our story started, Hermione felt considerably better. She'd read once that sleeping helped rid oneself of negative feelings. Very true. However, it seems that sleep also brought about the idea that you were letting life slip through your fingers. "There's nothing to do, though," Hermione whined to her room.

'Then THINK of something to do. Whining isn't going to solve anything, you know.' Hermione shrugged and got dressed. She looked in the mirror, holding her hair in two fists. She had to do something… Hermione walked out of the house, not paying attention to the warm smiles her parents gave her from over their sugar-free breakfasts.

'Sugar-free. That's the perfect way to describe your life, Hermy darling. Your life is just a poor substitute for something better.'

Hermione took this with a frown. "Well at least I won't get cavities from living," she muttered under her breath. She walked to the park, and sat in a shady area on a big red bench. Looking down at her fist, Hermione realized that she'd brought Harry's letter.

'What better place to hear from our dear friend than in a shady area of this beautiful park on this beautiful red bench?'

Hermione opened the letter. It was full of stupid stuff teenagers find funny. Hermione laughed. "Beautiful," she whispered, setting the letter in her lap and looking around at the park. She nodded. She was in love with Harry Potter. "How have I gone so many years without realizing this," Hermione shouted at the park around her, earning curious glances from innocent park-goers.

'Are you sure? Maybe you just want to fall in love with him? Maybe you just need something to happen?'

Hermione shrugged that off. "Everybody wants something to happen." She ran home, overjoyed by teendom, and the fact that she could run home in her overjoyed-ness of teendom, not caring about how much of a dork she looked like running home.

By the time she got home, Hermione already had three and a half different daydreams formed in her head of how Harry would come over to her on the first day of school, full of the charm that had somehow gone unnoticed by Hermione all these years. He'd walk over to her, push his glasses up on his nose, and say in his wonderful voice, "Hi, Hermione."

Oh, she was already swooning in delight. 'It's still not enough though, Hermy. Harry's no better at living life than you are. Why do you think you two are friends?'

Hermione's response was a scoff upon closing the front door.

Her two parents looked up. "Hermione, where have you been? You startled us with your running out of the house like that."

"How long was I gone," Hermione asked.

"About half an hour. Care to explain yourself?"

'I need to learn how to live, darlings.'

"That's it! I need to learn how to live, darlings," Hermione repeated, nodding and beaming at her parents while strolling to her room. Her parents exchanged confused glances as Hermione closed the door to her room.

Upon closing the door, Hermione sat on her bed, leaning her head against the wall. "How do I go about getting rid of the sugar substitute that is my life, then," she demanded of her room. "Should I, should I go out and take up smoking, or drinking, or some other stupid thing adolescents do?"

'Jesus, Hermione. That adolescence is what got you started in the first place. Or, rather, your attitude towards adolescence and what you've learned. Don't swallow every piece of bull that others feed you. They're keeping you stuck.'

My, there was anger. "Stuck? How?"

'That's for you to find out, Hermy darling.'

Hermione pulled a piece of parchment out of one of the many books she had spread on her floor. She found a quill, and scribbled furiously on the parchment for a moment before letting it flutter to the ground.

**I**

**AM**

**STUCK.**


	2. As our story begins

Man I feel wrathful. I want to make the world feel how I feel. I want the leaves to shake on trees as I pass, and for people to look up and see me, and know. Know that I'm doing it.

'Baby steps, Hermy darling. Soon enough…'

Hermione looked up from that which she'd written. A week or so had passed since she'd been dumped (Dare she call it that? It sounded so…dramatic), and since that day she'd been writing much of what went through her head or out of her mouth.

Tomorrow she was boarding the big train to go to school, and would then be able to swoon (most subtly, of course) over the real Harry Potter, as opposed to the dreamed up Harry's she'd been living off of.

One more day until school started. How exciting. 'Exciting?'

"Yes, actually. I'm rather fond of school, and learning…and…all that good stuff. You know…professors, er…school…" Hermione thought of her beloved Hogwarts, chock-full of new things to learn, only to be violently startled by her mother opening her door.

"Were you saying something, dear?"

"No, mother, just…you know..." Hermione gave her mother a wave of her hand, as if that explained everything.

"What?"

"What, what?" Hermione asked back. Her mother was giving her a concerned look.

Her daughter had been acting strange recently, her mother couldn't help but think. She blamed it all on hormones. Hermione's father blamed it all on too many sweets and that damn magic. He never was very supportive of their daughter's 'special talents'… Hermione's mother sighed and walked out, her mind plagued by slightly negative thoughts.

"Is it late," Hermione asked the room. "Because I feel tired."

'It doesn't matter.'

"Yes…" Hermione yawned. She got into bed, not caring about the fact that she was still wearing the clothes she'd worn through the day, or the fact that the sun was still out. Expressing yourself on paper when there are no guidelines takes a lot out of you. "Yes…" Hermione repeated, already falling asleep. "And now the world is full of happy things," she whispered. She should write that down.

'Yes, well… The world will very soon be full of happy things, indeed…'

That night, Hermione had a dream unlike many others she usually had the few nights before school started. There was nothing really school related, but instead an attractive-looking boy. "What are you doing here," Hermione asked the boy coldly. "Why aren't you with that other girl? Amy, or whatever you said her name was." Hermione hated this other girl that he'd gone camping with. She had a list of reasons:

**She's surely more attractive.**

**Her hair surely isn't bushy.**

**She didn't have to lie about her life to non-magical people.**

**She's outdoorsy.**

**She has the boy Hermione wanted.**

Hermione had never met this girl that was chosen over her. "What other chick," the boy asked, smiling.

"The chick you left to go camping with. The chick you left me for. The chick that is so much better"-

'Shut up, Hermy darling.' Hermione looked to her side. There stood a girl no older than herself, with hair down to her shoulders. She had a smirk on her face, and dark green eyes that were shining as if she were remembering a good joke.

"What?"

'Well, really now, what good will come of hating on yourself?' This girl glanced pointedly at the boy still standing in front of Hermione.

"Are you…the chick?"

This girl jammed a thumb in the boy's direction. 'The chick? As in the one this guy left you for? Ick.'

Hermione stared at the boy. He was still smiling. It was a stupid smile. "My, you have a stupid smile. It's all crooked. And NOT in an attractive way." Hermione giggled. She stepped forward. "Why did I ever want to kiss you on that stupid mouth?" She pushed the boy. He wasn't smiling anymore. She pushed him again. He fell over. The girl was giggling with Hermione.

Hermione smiled and woke up, the giggling still in her mind. 'Now, can you do that in real life?' Hermione opened her eyes, still slightly cloudy with sleep. The sun was barely rising; Hermione got out of bed, remembering that today she left for Hogwarts. This year… This year was most definitely going to be different.

'Ah, she catches on…'

"Could you take any longer," Ron demanded absently of whomever was holding up the line of students waiting to board the train. Him and Harry had been standing in the same spot for longer than their patience really wanted to hold out. Ron stood on tiptoes, trying to see who was holding up the line. "Probably some first-year," he muttered as the line finally started moving.

Harry and Ron walked through the train, looking for an empty spot or Hermione; whichever came first. 'Twas the latter. "Ron! Harry!" Hermione was extremely giddy, but felt she hid it quite well.

She received waves and smiles from them both. "Were you waiting long? Somebody held up the line when we were trying to board."

Hermione smothered a giggle and shrugged. She hadn't meant to take so long to write down the poem that had entered her mind right as she was boarding the train. 'You should have kept the parchment and quill somewhere more accessible.'

"Ah, well, who cares? How was your summer, Hermione," Harry asked of his friend.

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment before processing the question. This wasn't like one of her daydreams. It was BETTER. "It was great, Harry," Hermione replied, holding more meaning in her response than she thought Harry would actually pick up.

'Damn straight. Males never look for hidden meanings.'

"Disappointment," Hermione cried out dismally. Ron and Harry glanced at each other. "Ah, well, enough about me, tell me about your summer, Harry. And, er, yours too, Ron." Great. Can you be more obvious, Hermione?

"Well, actually, something quite interesting happened this summer," Ron started. Hermione tuned out the rest of his story, only smiling or giving a chuckle when Harry did the same. Then Harry started talking, and Hermione decided it was time to pay attention.

Hermione tried to listen; she really did. It's just that…they were being such boys. 'You need to find yourself some girlfriends, Hermy darling.'

"Heh. Indeed," Hermione replied.

"What?" Harry and Ron asked simultaneously.

"Oh, pay no attention to me," Hermione said sweetly, standing up.

'Bog knows she's been doing the same to you two.'

Hermione chuckled weakly and walked out, leaving Harry and Ron quite confused. She walked down the aisle, trying to think of something to do. "But I do have girlfriends. There's Ginny…" Hermione trailed off. Where was that girl?

"Hermione," somebody called from behind her. Turning around, Hermione found the very girl she was just thinking about.

"Ginny! How have you been," Hermione asked, smiling at the girl that was one year her minor.

"Great! Over the summer, who should I run into but Terry Boot?! Oh, you know, he's in your year, a Ravenclaw… We-ell, I ran into him one day, and we got to talking, and mrack mrack mrack mrack…" Hermione once again tuned out what somebody was telling her.

'Where has your mind gone?'

"It's just not interesting enough," Hermione explained.

"What?" Ginny looked confused and slightly hurt. She was just about to tell Hermione about how they'd gone for sundaes on Saturday.

"Oh, not you, Ginny darling. Life." With that, Hermione started on her stroll down the train once again.

"Did you just insult the Weasel girl, Granger? If I wasn't worried about how you might soil my wand hand, I might actually pat you on the back," a sneering voice said from beside Hermione.

"Heh. You know, if this was a story, I might look over in your direction right now and proceed to describe you, Malfoy. But…eh. I believe everybody's already acquainted with your characteristics. Slight drawl, _cooold, cold_ silver eyes…" Hermione kept walking, not looking over in Malfoy's direction.

She continued on her slight rant. "Pale skin…" She quickly stopped and wheeled around to face Malfoy. "Actually, why are you never any darker? I mean, do you not go out over the summer? Most people come back from summer vacation with a tan. And what's with this last name thing? Draco just sounds too… intimate I suppose… ooh, and goodness knows we can't handle that… a Slytherin and Gryffindor…" Hermione trailed off, walking away once again.

'That's a nice-sounding guy.'

"Extremely," Hermione replied, smiling. Only close to twenty minutes had passed, and already she had left four people confused on three different occasions (That's not counting Crabbe and Goyle…the brutes. Sheesh.)

She ran into Ron, going the opposite directions, only moments later. "Er, we've got to go to the prefect's compartment, Hermione," Ron reminded her.

Hermione felt slightly confused for a second, and then embarrassed for some reason. "Why of course, Ron. Did you think I'd forget?" With that she turned and started walking in the same direction as Ron. She hadn't forgotten that she was a prefect. That was absurd. Hermione inconspicuously shook her head, and realized that she was ever closer to entering the big castle that was Hogwarts. More intelligence was almost within her grasp…

She turned and beamed up at Ron, who'd grown taller over the summer, expecting him to share in her excitement. He gave her an uncertain smile in return, and then stared straight forward. He looked as if he were walking to his execution. Something must have happened, Hermione thought, for how could he not be excited about school?

They walked into the prefect's compartment, one in front of the other, joining the others in the slightly crowded area. Almost there, somebody mumbled.

'Yes, almost there.'


	3. Chapter Three

"My GOD this is uninteresting…Hermione muttered under her breath as the little squirmy children called first-years slowly spread throughout the great hall where the hat told them to go. She was rapping her knuckles on the table to the rhythm of some song, hating how slow the line of first-years was shrinking. Ron was sitting next to her, glancing at her every now and then as she resumed her rapping.

'Such bad manners. Don't you know it's not polite to rap on the table?'

"Ah, shut up," Hermione whispered.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Why does everybody keep asking me that," Hermione whined. Once again she was wishing that Harry had become a prefect; he might be the one sitting next to her if that was the case. She could already imagine how she'd act; she'd slowly lean in closer to him until her arm was touching his, and then she would look into his beautiful, bright green eyes and smile. It would be lovely.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Hermione," Ron asked, his voice rather on edge and even slightly squeaky. Hermione assessed her position, and realized that she'd been acting out her daydream on Ron.

'Ooh…awkward.'

Hermione cleared her throat and went back to staring at the line of first-years, slowly resuming the rapping of knuckles to her song. At some point Hermione must have zoned out, because when she came to she found Dumbledore taking his seat and the tables being filled with food. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. Ron was startled, and looked over at Hermione. "How did I just miss our welcoming speech," she cried out in dismay.

"Well, you didn't miss much," Ron said to calm down the girl next to him. "Did you not get enough sleep last night, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged, and started eating.

That night in the common room, Hermione sat with Harry and Ron for a while before going off to bed. They talked and laughed, and this time Hermione actually listened. She was tired, however, and decided to go to sleep. Had she stayed a few moments longer, though, she might have been able to witness Ron lean in to Harry and whisper, "You know, I think Hermione might fancy me." She might have seen Crookshanks sneak into the common room and hide below one of the tables with one of the other girl's frilly ribbons.

Hermione wasn't usually that light of a sleeper. Tonight, however, she couldn't get comfortable. She kept tossing and turning, and finally sat up, calling for Crookshanks. Usually, when he felt like getting in bed with her, the purring and cuddliness made Hermione fall asleep. "Crookshanks?"

Hermione stood up, whispering her cat's name, trying to see if he was in the room. She walked out into the common room, and stood there for a moment trying to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. "Crookshanks?"

"Not quite," a voice whispered back.

Hermione peered in the darkness and saw a face that looked quite familiar. Even with only different shades of gray for color, Hermione could see how the eyes were still shining. "You!"

Hermione saw the figure bounce a bit as it laughed. "What a nice greeting. No hello?"

"Who are you?" Hermione had never seen this girl before, but somehow she felt very familiar.

"Rowan; pleased to meet." By now Hermione's eyes had gotten used to the darkness, and she saw Rowan smirk.

"Have we met," Hermione asked Rowan tentatively.

"Mm, well, in a way, yes," Rowan started. "If you mean with all the formalities- handshakes, bow of the head- then no. But…you know…" She waved her hand as if that were all the explanation needed. "You're cat is under that table," she said, pointing to one of the tables, "And I suggest you go to sleep. There are classes tomorrow."

Rowan smiled and walked away through one of the doors as Hermione picked up her cat and went back to bed. She couldn't help but think that Rowan's voice sounded oddly familiar; where had she met this girl before?

The next morning, Hermione woke up and licked her lips; they tasted sweet. This only momentarily puzzled her, however, before she realized that it was indeed the first day of school. The other girls of the dormitory were waking up, too, and getting out of bed.

"So what'dchoo…think of the…the knew defense teacher," Lavender asked through yawns.

"Oh! I forgot we have a new one," Hermione exclaimed. She would think about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher when it came to that, but for now she just wanted to see her schedule. In the great hall, Hermione sat across from Harry and Ron, eating her breakfast. "You know," she said abruptly, dragging her fork through a puddle of syrup on her plate, "This morning when I woke up my lips tasted sweet."

She looked up as Ron jumped out of his seat. "I gotta go," he said rather squeakily, walking out of the great hall.

Hermione let out a sigh and turned to receive her schedule from the person sitting next to her. She looked down at the list, not really registering any of the names, until she came to one- 'Advanced Ancient Runes'. Her eyes were making it seem like the name of the class was highlighted; she blinked and looked up at Harry with a smile. "School has now started." She dropped her fork in the syrup and stood up, looking at her fellow Gryffindors.

She sighed, shaking her head, and left Harry to look after her with a confused look on his face. Something about Hermione was different today.


	4. Posession sounds good

"How _does_ she do it," a girl whispered from behind Hermione. The girl was staring wide-eyed as Hermione chewed on a fingernail, stared out the window and took notes all at the same time.

"You should see her when she's doing homework," the girl's friend replied, shaking her head in awe.

It was a pretty day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and Hermione felt warm all over. Through the years she'd developed the skill of writing down what a professor was saying without really having to listen. She usually preferred to listen while she wrote, but the skill did certainly come in handy. Hermione regretted taking Muggle Studies now; what she thought would be fun turned out to be about as fun as her history class had been. The one difference was that this time the teacher wasn't a ghost.

"...so when dealing with a muggle in this situation one must remember that the obvious signs might hide..." Hermione let out a sigh. She looked down at the schedule still out on her desk, noting that next was Advanced Ancient Runes. She didn't really remember signing up for the class, but was very glad she had; a lesson from Professor Vector was what she was really looking forward to. Maybe she could still change her mind about her career choice- deciding she wanted to be in Muggle Studies her fifth year seemed like such a hasty decision.

Hermione started when somebody tapped her shoulder. Looking to the side, Hermione found Lavender smiling at her. "I didn't know you wanted to go into muggle relations," Lavender said. "Don't you live with muggles?"

"Yes, well..." Hermione replied, shrugging as she put away her notes.

"What do you have next?"

"Advanced ancient runes," Hermione replied with a smile. Lavender gave a giggle, and then realized Hermione wasn't joking.

"You actually like that class?" Lavender smiled again, and turned to Parvati, who was sitting on her other side.

'Wow, that was nice.'

"Seriously," Hermione mumbled, getting up with the rest of the class. She walked out the door and headed towards Professor Vector's class.

Inside the room, Hermione smiled towards the professor's desk, finding somebody else there instead. Sitting in Professor Vector's desk was a youngish man; Hermione's smile slowly faded into a look of confusion. The man gave her a puzzled look, but seemed to recognize her. He stood up, and at that moment Professor Vector walked in from her separate office. She nodded to the man, giving him a slight smile as he walked out the door. On his way out he glanced back at Hermione, still looking puzzled, then shook his head and walked out the door.

"Hello professor," Hermione said, smiling. "Who was that man?"

"Why, he's my second cousin," the professor replied. "How was your summer, Hermione?"

'Pretty freaking boring.'

"Not so," Hermione whispered. She then looked up at the professor that was giving her a strange look. "It was alright, but I'm so glad to be back in this class."

Hermione took a seat, looking up at Professor Vector with undivided attention. There'd be no half-attentive notes in this class. "Welcome back, students," the professor started with. "I should hope that all of you are in this class because you want to be, and are up for a challenge! It shall be fun, but a challenge nonetheless. And," she continued, "how better to break you in from the summer holidays than a translation assignment?"

Hermione looked down at the sheet of parchment she'd been given; there were different symbols on it, many if not most of which she'd never seen before. The professor passed by again, handing her another sheet with vague descriptions of what some of the symbols might mean.

"Now this is a challenge," the professor continued, "for there isn't really a strict meaning for each of the symbols. Have fun with it, though. There is hardly a wrong answer, and besides- even if you are wrong, it's highly unlikely that anybody's going to come back to correct you." At this the professor smiled, looking at all the students mulling over the information on the sheets.

Hermione was reading through the translations, then looking at the list of symbols, and reading through the translations again. When she was doing one of the assignments, nothing else mattered. It was like putting together a puzzle, but was more fun than any puzzle she'd put together.

"Is this...fertility?" she mumbled. "Wait...moon...celebration...fertility rites?" Hermione wrote a few notes on a piece of her own parchment, and then went back to staring at the symbols.

'Note the order of the second, third and fourth symbols...'

"What? Oh! Oh..." again Hermione scribbled on the parchment. "Wait? Possession?"

'Heh...your guess is as good as mine, Hermy darling.'

The class passed with Hermione touching up on her translation. She still wasn't finished, however, when Professor Vector passed by, and looked down at what Hermione had written. "Interesting, Ms.Granger. I don't believe any other students have related those symbols to each other yet." Professor Vector then bent in and whispered, "Nor have I seen any students get that close to what we believe is the truth."

Hermione beamed, and placed her translation in her bag, along with the other sheets of parchment she'd been given. A compliment on her first day back... Smiling, Hermione walked out into the hall and once again saw the man from Professor Vector's class. She gave him an unsure smile, but he just frowned and turned away.

'A mystery man?'

Hermione shrugged. She didn't understand why the man kept looking at her like he knew her. She'd certainly never seen him before. But then again...maybe...maybe he did seem a little familiar to her as well. Or maybe she was just imagining that he seemed familiar. Hermione shrugged and kept walking.

'You're doing it wrong.'

"Shut up."

'What? You're trying to give the potion a completely different purpose from that which Snape gave you.'

"Shut. Up."

There was a pause as Hermione made a slight change in her formula. 'You're still doing it wrong.'

"Gah! I just can't win, can I," she demanded. She stood up, planning to storm out, and then realized how stupid that would be. She sat back down, hearing laughter from somewhere. She looked over her potions work. "To obtain a separation between...oh...it's to obtain the essence of ginger root." Hermione sighed.

'You were making it sooo much harder than it had to be, Hermy darling.'

Hermione nodded, giving in to the remark, but stopped with a violent jerk when the room seemed to tilt. The jerk just made her head hurt even more. She closed her eyes, trying to will the slight pain in her temples away. It was usual for Hermione to experience quite a few headaches throughout the school year, but not so close to the beginning.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

Hermione looked behind her to find Harry walking over. "I'm fine; just a small headache."

"Already? I wasn't expecting those to start for at least another week or two." Harry smiled to show he was joking. Hermione gave him a small smile in return, feeling a small blush on her cheeks.

'Oh, how cute…'

"Shut it," Hermione breathed.

"Ah, potions homework- no wonder you were developing a headache. Ron was fretting over it for so long, I thought he was going to start pulling at his hair..."

Hermione gave a small giggle, ever conscious of the headache like a wriggling throb near her temples. Standing up, she looked down at Harry. "I'm sorry, but I think I should go to sleep. This headache…" Once again, her meeting with Harry had been cut short. Hermione sighed as she lay in bed, falling almost instantly into a sleep. When she woke up, Hermione couldn't remember anything she'd dreamed about.

* * *

**A/N: **Professor Vector IS the professor of Ancient Runes, right? And she IS female, right? Or did I just completely make that all up?


	5. Consciences fall asleep in the strangest...

"Ms. Granger, please pardon my _horridly_ rude interruption, but I wouldn't mind terribly if you started paying attention." Professor Snape's voice was full of annoyance as he snapped at Hermione. Hermione turned back to the professor, breaking herself out of her daydream. She'd been in right on the edge of the forbidden forest, and was curious as to where her dream self was headed.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione said softly as her cheeks reddened. It wasn't everyday that she was chastised, even in Snape's class. Snape went back to lecturing the class on dangers of using armadillo bile in too large of quantities at once. Hermione gave a sigh, writing down some key points.

After class Harry and Ron walked with Hermione, whispering not-so-charming comments about Snape under their breath. Hermione was developing a headache. Ah, well, it's time for lunch, she told herself. Food should make her feel better.

At the table, Ron and Harry sat across from Hermione talking about quidditch. "You're going to the game, right Hermione?" Harry was looking up at Hermione.

"Game? Like, Quidditch game? Don't you need to practice for a while, first?" Never had Hermione thought that the Gryffindor team would get so confident in their skill.

Harry and Ron gave Hermione almost incredulous looks. "Practice? Hermione, Ron and I have been practicing with the team almost every evening for the past month."

"What? MONTH?" Hermione dug into her bag, looking for the small calendar she wrote her assignments in. It was late October. "What? Where did…" Where did the month go, she wanted to ask. How had she completely missed a little over a month of life? Hermione looked back on her time already spent at Hogwarts; all she could remember were a few hazy moments. The majority was lost; almost as if it were all a dark river with a few floating pictures Hermione almost saw right beneath the surface. "Erm, yeah, I'll be at the game, for sure," Hermione assured the two boys.

The boys exchanged glances before continuing their conversation. Hermione realized her head was still hurting, and decided the best remedy was some quiet time. She stood up, said goodbye to Harry and Ron, and made her way to the library.

* * *

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Ron was giving Hermione a concerned look. Half an hour after leaving for the library, the girl seemed dead with exhaustion.

"Oh, I'm swell," Hermione said almost inaudibly. Her headache had just grown worse. "Thank you for asking." Ancient Runes was next- she was sure that would make her feel better, but she just felt worse. A little after class had started, Hermione asked Professor Vector if she could go to the nurse. She received another concerned glance- did she really look as bad as she felt? Professor Vector let her go, and off Hermione went, walking rather slowly.

Halfway to the Madame Pomfrey's office, Hermione hesitated. Why go to the nurse? Why not go out somewhere? She shook her head, banishing the rebellious thought, and went the rest of the way to the Madame Pomfrey's office.

She knocked on the nurse's door, and when it was opened Hermione walked in. "Madame Pomfrey, I don't feel well," Hermione said, mentally kicking herself for the redundancy of those words. Madame Pomfrey, I'm feeling perfectly well, but just decided that a nice stroll down to your office would be better than sitting in my Advanced Ancient Runes class. "My head's been hurting, and I feel kind of dizzy."

Madame Pomfrey surveyed Hermione, looking for anything physically wrong except for the fact that she looked exhausted. "Well, it doesn't seem anything is terribly wrong with you, dear, but I'll give a small potion to help you get some sleep for a while. It seems all you need is some time for rest." She walked off, and Hermione sat on a bed. Madame Pomfrey came back with a small goblet in her hand. She handed it to Hermione, who sipped down the potion, actually savoring the sweet taste. It was like nectar.

Hermione soon found herself slowly floating into sleep, and it was such a delicious feeling; she hadn't slept like this in a long time. The sleep wasn't quite as deep as she thought it would be, and aren't potion-induced sleeps supposed to be super deep? This would have confused Hermione if she weren't so comfortable.

She could still feel Madame Pomfrey walking around, fixing the other beds, and heard some second-year walk in with tentacles from a hex. Hermione soon found that she could zone it all out, though, and enjoyed the meditative peace. She was almost startled when what felt like to warm hands were pressed to her cheeks. This couldn't be, though, for now the feeling of warm hands was on her feet, spreading up her legs. They're going to get me, Hermione thought abstractly for a moment, full of panic. She was about to start struggling to move when the warmth was abruptly gone, leaving a feeling of empty cold.

Hermione's eyes opened and found Madame Pomfrey walking over to her bed, a smile on her face. "Feeling better?"

Hermione continued to look up at Madame Pomfrey, the feeling of panic subsiding. "Yes, I am, thank you." She smiled back at the woman and stood up, seeing herself to the door.

"You should start making your way to the great hall," Madame Pomfrey called after the girl. "You must eat, for that might be a cause of your sudden headaches as well. And get more sleep, dear!"


	6. All alone?

"And if you're left all alone? Who will you go to?"

"I don't know; I suppose… But why would I end up all alone? And when did we start having this conversation?" Hermione tried to focus on the face in front of her- a face with shining green eyes and a mirthful smirk.

"When have we not been having this conversation, Hermy darling? Now answer the question, because if you don't know then I might have the perfect solution." There was ringing laughter as a bewildered Hermione shook her head.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Hermione looked up from her position in one of the common room chairs to see a pale, freckled face looking down at her. "We heard you had to leave the match."

"Oh, I'm fine, Ron. Just a little tired, I suppose." Hermione shrugged and unfolded her legs from the chair, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. When had she fallen asleep? "So did you win?"

Ron beamed as he settled in to a chair of his own. "We won spectacularly, if I do say so myself. There was this one play that went especially well; you see, I was supposed to"- Hermione kept nodding and smiling as Ron described the spectacular play with enthusiastic hand motions.

Ron is speaking, she told herself. Ron is telling you something- do you hear the words? Hermione could indeed hear the words, but she just couldn't put any meaning behind them. Ron was now leaning back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. "Doesn't that just sound so…so…"

"Spectacular?" Hermione suggested.

"Yes! Harry, wasn't that one play spectacular?" Harry looked over to where Hermione and Ron were conversing.

"You mean the one where you did the crazy…." Here Harry proceeded to gesture wildly with his hands, and Hermione was surprised Ron was still alive if he had been doing that on his broom. "That was quite spectacular."

"Which play are you talking about," a first-year Gryffindor asked from a group of fellow first-years, looking from Ron to Harry.

Ron smiled broadly as he jumped to join the group. Hermione watched as his shining red head bobbed up and down as he made his way to the group. As he stood towering over them all, he made the same wild gestures as before, smiling when one girl or boy gasped.

Meanwhile, Harry had made himself comfortable in Ron's former seat. "Say, Hermione, do you fancy anybody?" Harry had a sly look in his eye, and the question caught Hermione off guard.

What exactly was one to say in this situation? Should she make a coy response and proceed to bat her eyelashes in a hinting manner? Or should she just throw herself at the boy and yell out her oaths of love to him?

"Yes, I suppose I do," Hermione said quickly, averting her eyes and hoping to the gods she wouldn't blush.

"Really?" Harry hadn't really expected her to answer him truthfully. He looked around, and Hermione could only guess it was to ensure them a private conversation. Her stomach twisted in an exciting fashion. "Is it…is it Ron?" Harry smiled at Hermione knowingly.

She blinked twice, and then three times, not quite sure she'd heard right at first. Ron? Ron? A smiled started twitching at the corners of her mouth before a loud, hysteric giggle bubbled up. "Ron? As in, Ron?" It wasn't particularly funny, so Hermione wasn't quite sure why she was laughing so hard. Tears were blurring her eyes as Hermione looked away from Harry's puzzled expression and on to a familiar pair of darker green eyes.

Hermione tried to stop laughing as she stood up, adrenaline pumping through her all of a sudden. Who was this girl? The laughter still had yet to die as Hermione stood rather close to the mysterious girl. With a gasping breath the laughter was gone, replaced instead with a wrenching pain in Hermione's chest.

"What are you doing," she asked accusingly of the girl in front of her, too quiet for anyone to hear. The girl wasn't smiling, for once, which unnerved Hermione and left her dizzy. 'Only one of us can speak at a time.'

Hermione knelt down, trying to regain her balance on the floor with the pain yet to reside. "Only one of us…" The pain grew stronger as Hermione leaned back on her feet; she knew Harry was somewhere at her side, and that the sun had already moved on to some other part of the world, and that a group of people was forming to see if she was alright. But Hermione had eyes only for this girl in front of her, this girl that was slowly bending down, much to slow to be natural. Her face was slowly coming closer, and Hermione had the feeling that the girl was either about to kiss her or fall in to her.

"Only one of us," the girl repeated, staring into Hermione's eyes once more before kissing her gently on the forehead. For one instant the pain was too much to handle, but then just as suddenly as it came it was gone, replaced by blessed nothingness. Hermione looked around at all the faces with expressions ranging from puzzled to scared witless before falling to the floor in a faint.

The next morning Hermione woke up, her head throbbing. She looked around, confused as to why she was in the hospital wing. She sat up in bed, cradling her head in her hands until a bout of dizziness subsided.

"Miss Granger! So glad to see you're awake," Madame Pomphrey called to Hermione from the next bed over, where she was tending to a younger boy.

"Madame Pomphrey…why am I here?"

The medi-witch stopped her bustling about to look thoughtfully at Hermione. "To tell you the truth, dear, I'm not quite sure. Nothing appears to be wrong with you, except for maybe exhaustion."

Hermione looked to either side of her. "So, can I go?"

"Not until I run a few more tests, dear, to make sure that nothing is terribly wrong." Hermione sighed and let her head fall back on the pillow beneath her. Her face was screwed in a look of concentration as she tried to remember what all had happened yesterday.

She remembered the Quidditch match, and having to leave early. She remembered running into Malfoy and him saving her from a crippling fall. And then…she was in the common room…and she was talking to Ron and Harry… Harry thought she fancied Ron, and she'd been laughing, and then… And then what?

Hazy flashes came to her, leaving just as suddenly as they appeared, of jumbled images; she wasn't even sure if they were from last night. A fireplace, bruised knees, the forest, a bowl, sand, the forest, a fireplace, a pain in her chest.

Hermione looked down and took her right leg out from beneath the blanket. She lifted up her clothing to look down at a very bruised knee. A feeling of surreal disorientation settled over Hermione's already muddled mind as she once again settled in to the bed.

A while later Harry and Ron showed up, both looking a little unsure of what to do. They acted as if they'd never been here before. "Hermione, are you better?"

"Yes, thanks Ron," Hermione said, and she noted a slight red tinge on his cheeks. She wondered if he'd heard the conversation between Harry and her last night. "Do you…what happened last night? I can't remember."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. "We're not quite sure," Harry said, groping for the proper words. "You just sort of…" he made a gesture that led Hermione to believe she'd keeled over, or something like it. He shrugged, and Ron repeated the gesture.

"Well, thanks I suppose," Hermione said, giving the boys a small smile. She'd look up some of her symptoms in the library later. Perhaps it was a rare disease, or…

"Boys, I believe you had better wait for your friend outside, for I need to run a few more tests." Madame Pomfrey bustled over to Hermione's bed, while the girl sat up and swung her legs over. The boys left, and Hermione was put through the regular routine of making sure everything was in its proper place, that her eyes weren't dilated, that her blood was the right color, that her reflexes were normal…

"Well, it seems you are a perfectly healthy young girl, Miss Granger. And what wonderful calcium intake you seem to have."

"My parents are dentists," Hermione said shrugging. For some reason that thought sent her a feeling of foreboding.

"Ah, yes, muggles who clean teeth… Well, off you go, my dear. Do remember to sleep!"

Hermione smiled and left the hospital wing with Harry and Ron, walking mostly in silence. When she got to the dormitories she would write a list of apparent symptoms she'd had, and from there…

"Oh, by the way Hermione- who's Rowan?" The question startled Hermione, and she paused, looking up into Ron's curious eyes.

"Rowan?" She breathed softly. "I don't even think I know the answer to that." Hermione heard somebody laughing, most likely somebody walking down a nearby corridor. They do tend to echo, after all. 'Only one of us…'

* * *

Well, it sure has been a while. >.> More to come.

-Siren Duveil


End file.
